


Sharing A Drink

by Nicxan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Other, brief needle mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: You have a very special date tonight with Papa III. You made sure that it would be something to remember.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Sharing A Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Welp still on a vampire kick.  
> This WAS going to be angst, but then Bloody_Vixen made it mostly fluff with a side of angst. 
> 
> ( _La luce della mia vita_ = The light of my life.)
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

_“Are you sure you want to do this?” the nurse asked. “It will take quite a bit of time to recover. He’s ... really hard to satiate.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I want to,” you said. You offered the woman a reassuring smile as you offered up your inner elbow for the needle. “Please.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“If you insist.”_

She hadn’t been lying about the ‘taking quite a bit to recover’ bit. A part of you had been worried that you wouldn’t have enough energy for your event tonight -- you had felt incredibly woozy after your extensive donation. It took a mix of water, iron pills, and sports drinks to get you back to feeling alive. The snacks given to you throughout the day helped, too.  
  
But it was nighttime now and you were feeling much better. Most of your fellow Siblings of Sin had to go to bed about now. You, however, had special privileges. While others headed to their rooms, you were headed up the stairs in the fanciest outfit you owned. No one even looked twice at you for this, nor did they grumble. It was to be expected at this point.   
  
The route was familiar to you by now. Wind up the staircase, take the second door, and then walk down to the end of the hall. These areas were always packed with ghouls chatting and laughing amongst themselves. They carried themselves far differently here than they did with the other humans. You, however, had gotten used to that as well.   
  
The door to Papa Emeritus the Third’s chambers stuck out like a sore thumb. The carvings into the wooden door were so elaborate and detailed that you noticed something new every single time you came this way. Once in a while, you would pause and admire the carvings. They were always smooth to the touch, something to appreciate.   
  
Every time you took a bit too long doing this, Papa would bid you to come in before you even knocked. You wouldn’t make him do that tonight.   
  
You used the golden-laced door knocker to knock twice. There was some shuffling and quiet swearing behind the door, but you waited patiently with a smile. He just wanted the place to look its best tonight, apparently. Sweet of him, considering his usual fashion of just leaving everything strewn about.   
  
“Come in, _tesoro_!”   
  
The sound of Papa’s voice made you freeze. It had a certain way about it -- each word coiled around you like tendrils, bidding you to obey, to give in, to listen ... and every time, you had to shake that off. His voice had special gifts. You had to be careful.   
  
You turned the handle and opened the door -- and when you saw what awaited you, you gasped softly.   
  
Papa’s chambers had been completely altered. Where a desk should be, there was now a dinner table. It was covered in a gorgeous deep purple cloth with gold trimmings. On top of the cloth was the most elaborate dinner you had ever seen.   
  
Some bruschetta. A fancy lasagna plated in the middle, still steaming hot. A tiramisu cake off to the side, cut to perfection, with all the immaculate layers showing. And to top it all off was a bottle of red wine. An expensive one, you presumed.   
  
Your eyes flickered from dish to dish. The more you looked, the more you noticed something ... off. The elaborate meals were on only one side of the table, framed by a wonderful lit candelabra. The other side simply had a silver chalice.   
  
“You like it?”   
  
You looked up to see your beloved Papa looking as dashing as ever. He had combed back his jet black hair; none of it hung in front of his papal skull paint. It looked sharper than usual, you noticed. It almost looked as sharp as his suit did -- a three-piece suit with a tailed jacket and a purple tie.   
  
He smiled brightly, his fangs glistening in the moonlight. You shivered at the sight of them -- or maybe it was his voice. “I thought you would.”   
  
“This is incredible,” you breathed out. And you meant it. You had never seen a display like this before, not even in the fanciest restaurants that you had been taken to. “You did this?”   
  
“With some help, _si._ ” He bowed his head in mock modesty. His pleased grin told you that he intended to take most of the credit for the work. It must have been his idea. “Only the best for my dearest. _La l_ _uce della mia vita._ ”   
  
Your cheeks grew hot as he continued to shower you with pet names, and they only got hotter when he actually walked over to you to take your hand. He lifted it to kiss it, but froze just before his lips touched your skin. _‘Oh. That’s the side with the gauze on.’_   
  
“And this is why I love you so dearly. Your planning,” he purred. Papa pressed the impression of the gauze down against you to check its sturdiness. “Be sure to not let this fall during dinner tonight. Very, very important, _si?_ Yes?”   
  
“Don’t worry, Papa,” you replied soothingly. “I won’t.”   
  
“ _Perfetto,_ ” he whispered shakily. His eyes glanced over your inner elbow, then he quickly pulled away.   
  
You observed him carefully for a couple of moments. Papa had started smiling again, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit. After a few more careful moments of trying to analyze his defenses, you gave in and just took the offered seat.   
  
“I was told that you gave me a very special gift,” Papa said. “Something very special indeed.”   
  
You knew exactly what he meant, but you played along for the sake of his need for theatrics. “Oh? What would that be?” you asked with a cheeky smile.   
  
Papa grinned, then went to his side of the table. He bent down -- you weren’t sure if that was an intentional view of his ass or not -- and grabbed something from underneath it.   
  
“... You had my bagged blood down _there_ ?” you asked in disbelief, completely ruining the moment.   
  
“Ah! _Merda!_ ” Papa laughed, a sound that always left you feeling weak in the knees. “And I was so ready to ... never mind.”   
  
Papa instead pulled out the bag of your blood with no flourish. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He handled it with a certain care, as one would treat the finest of china. He looked at it before looking back at you.   
  
You had never seen him so ecstatic. His entire face had lit up; he looked almost like the sun. He always did, but right now, with this happiness ... you couldn’t imagine the sun being more beautiful than he was. His radiant, joyful grin was so contagious that it made you grin as well.   
  
“I never thought that there would be a way,” he whispered. “I thought that -- I thought that everything would hurt you too much. That it would be too dangerous. But, no, no ... you’re so clever, _tesoro._ ”   
  
When he looked at you, your world stopped.   
  
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”   
  
Only after expressing his gratitude did he sit down. Papa pierced the blood bag with one of his claws and tipped it over the chalice, squeezing a stream of your blood into the vessel. You watched, entranced, as the crimson liquid flowed.   
  
“... You may eat, you know,” Papa said with a chuckle. “Don’t want it to get cold, hm? Cooked by the esteemed Secondo himself. He would be terribly upset to know that it went to waste.”   
  
How had he managed to get Secondo to -- never mind. You didn’t want to waste a bite of this feast. Papa seemed to feel the same way; he was the one to pour your wine while you ate one of the bruschetta.   
  
“And how does it taste?” Papa asked. He tilted his head inquisitively.   
  
Of _course_ he had asked you while you were taking a bite. You swallowed as quickly as you could, then replied, “Delicious. Seriously the best bruschetta I’ve ever had. It’s so crunchy!”   
  
“All locally-grown produce!” Papa paused. “Or so Secondo tells me, at least.”   
  
“Not surprised,” you replied before you took another bite. “He takes it very seriously.”   
  
“I haven’t had a good bruschetta in centuries,” Papa lamented. “Enjoy it on my behalf as well, yes?”   
  
You smiled fondly at Papa. Then, you got an idea.   
  
“Well, it’s very crunchy,” you explained. “Lots of tomatoes, cheese, and there’s olive oil here too, I think. With thyme.”   
  
“I appreciate your efforts, but I don’t remember the taste of food anymore.” Papa chuckled nervously. “But thank you, _tesoro._ It means quite a lot that you would go through so much effort for me.”   
  
Oh. You hadn’t even considered that. You withdrew into yourself and took another bite of bruschetta to prevent yourself from saying anything else stupid.   
  
Papa, however, decided to fill the silence.   
  
“That’s what I like about you, yes? Always thinking of me, always trying to make me comfortable, when I should be doing that for you.” Papa picked up his chalice and swirled the liquid inside of it. His eyes weren’t on you right now; instead, they were fixated on his meal. “I couldn’t think of a more thoughtful lover.”   
  
“I just love you, Papa,” you whispered. “I want you to be happy too.”   
  
“I’m happier than I’ve been in so long. And it’s all because of you.”   
  
You didn’t know how to respond to that. So, instead of trying, you just prayed that Papa could see your flattered little smile even as you finished off the bruschetta. You hardly got bashful, but it always happened around Papa. He just had that effect on you.   
  
After a moment of silence, Papa raised his glass. “A toast! For us! May our love transcend time itself!”   
  
You’d drink to that. You held up your glass of wine, then took a sip of it. Yep, this was definitely one of the expensive ones. Or maybe it wasn’t. You just knew it tasted extremely good, nice and rich. You set it down with a content sigh.   
  
Once you heard him swirling the blood around again, you glanced up to Papa. He had the chalice to his lips, which were parted slightly. You could see his fangs shining in the candlelight as he started to drink your blood.   
  
He started off slow, like he wanted to savour every last drop of your essence. However, it didn’t take long for him to chug the whole thing. He looked disgusted with himself while he devoured your blood, but he couldn’t seem to stop.   
  
Papa slammed the chalice down on the table and wiped the blood off of his mouth. He was trembling. Why, you didn’t know. And were those tears?   
  
“Papa, are you all right?” you asked. Was it your blood? Did it taste horrible to him? Why was he crying? It took all of your willpower to stay in your seat; all you wanted to do was run over and comfort him.   
  
“ _Sublime._ ” It was a shaky word. “Your -- your blood was so delicious. Sweet and tart all at once, that perfect blend.” Papa swallowed a lump in his throat. It was then that you noticed that he was shaking.   
  
“Then what’s wrong?”   
  
“I wasted it!” Papa laughed sardonically. “Oh, I finally get a taste of your blood, and instead of relishing it like I _should,_ I just -- I just -- wasted it. I can never control myself!”   
  
This was the moment; you couldn’t stand to sit here and let him wallow in his misery. You set down your fork, lasagna still on it, and folded your hands onto your lap.   
  
“You know I donated more than one bag, right?” You smiled reassuringly, keeping your tone soft and smooth for his benefit. “It’s okay. There’s more.”   
  
Papa froze at this. He stared at you incredulously, chalice still in hand. Then, the tears began to flow again, smearing his makeup. He bolted up from his seat and rushed over to hug you as tightly as he could manage. You managed to stand up, then you returned the hug without a second thought.   
  
His body may have been cold, but you still felt so warm at his touch. You clung to him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut and enjoying the admittedly awkwardly-positioned hug. Papa sobbed openly on your shoulder, but you didn’t care.   
  
“S-So clever,” he sobbed out. “So fucking clever. Where would I be without my little treasure?” Papa stroked your hair frantically, burying his head against you.   
  
You had never seen him like this before. It broke your heart to hear him cry, but it was hard to be completely despondent when he sounded so relieved. You remained silent, rubbing his back and clinging to him like he was to you.   
  
“I’m in your debt. Oh, why didn’t I even think about _donating_ the blood in the first place? Like at a hospital?” Papa let out a sad little laugh before finally pulling back. He rested his hands on your shoulders and squeezed gently. “But please, never again. _Never_ multiple bags at once. That takes a toll on humans, _si?_ Promise me.”   
  
It was a promise you hated to make, but you nodded. “I promise.”   
  
“Good, good. Very good.” After one loving look, Papa pulled away from you to go back to his side of the table.   
  
You both sat down. The air felt different, but not in a bad way. It felt awkward to eat alone, but Papa’s absolutely starstruck expressions when he looked at you made your heart flutter.   
  
Everything was delicious, of course -- you were sure to tell him that and gush of the flavors, even if he couldn’t understand. He still smiled and encouraged you, looking absolutely smitten the entire time. Now he didn’t even need to speak to fluster you; all he had to do was look at you with his mismatched eyes and smile.   
  
He didn’t need to say ‘I love you’ for you to know that’s what he was saying. Maybe he just didn’t want to interrupt you as you ate your tiramisu cake. But you could feel it -- you could feel his love, and it wrapped around you like a warm blanket. You felt safe. Warm. Adored.   
  
You only hoped that he knew you felt the same for him.


End file.
